


The Matchmaker

by stardust009



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust009/pseuds/stardust009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fill prompt - "Aramis knows, in his soul, that he is a born matchmaker. He wouldn't even dare with Athos, Porthos only grudgingly allows him to occasionally set him up, but now there's d'Artagnan, who just had his heart broken by Constance - it's practically his duty, honestly.</p><p>Aramis plays matchmaker and keeps trying to set d'Artagnan up with these nice girls. D'Artagnan finally gets frustrated and allows it to slip that he'd much prefer a nice boy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> [Quick prompt fill to keep me amused. I hope the OP enjoys.]

Aramis knew in his soul that he was a born matchmaker. He also fully believed that it was his duty to use those skills to provide happiness for others. His confidence had been further enhanced recently when he heard that the blacksmith had asked his lady friend to marry him. Aramis had introduced them both to each other a year ago so it was another happy notch on his matchmaker belt.

He knew better than to try matchmaking Athos and he tended to leave Porthos alone unless it was for a particular purpose, mostly because he got jealous when Porthos spent time with anyone else. D'Artagnan, however, had been moping around ever since Constance had broken his heart and Aramis knew the perfect solution for heartbreak, to be whisked away in the foolish emotions of falling in love with someone else. Aramis had plenty of candidates in mind. Over breakfast he started describing them all to the young musketeer to see if any took his fancy.

“Mademoiselle Lucie is particularly lovely. She’s sweet, kind and gentle. I’ve heard she sings like an angel and she looks like one as well. She has blond hair which cascades down her back and stops just before her beautiful, firm buttocks,” Aramis said, his gloved hands outlining a female figure until his hands seemed to stop at the imaginary buttocks. He shook himself out of the distraction and looked back over at d'Artagnan. “Her mother, however, is slightly on the scary side which is why I never went there.”

D'Artagnan sat there patiently, eating his breakfast and listening to Aramis out of politeness. Athos was ignoring it all and Porthos was just pleased that it wasn’t him this time.

“Mademoiselle Celine. She’s very intelligent and tends to have her face in books most of the time. She walks around daydreaming about planets and mythical creatures. I often see her reading by the fountain so we could arrange for you to accidentally bump into her there. She likes chocolate and wild flowers. Actually....I think you might bore her.”

D'Artagnan felt a little offended but he didn’t say anything, just ate more porridge.

“Ah Mademoiselle Adele. Now she’s feisty. You’d really like her. She’s beautiful and she knows it. Dark eyes, dark curly hair. She likes soldiers too....as does her mother. That was an interesting evening......”

“Aramis!” d'Artagnan finally snapped, before his fellow musketeer could continue that particular story. “I appreciate you caring but I’m really not interested.”

Aramis frowned. “I’ll eventually find someone you’re interested in,” he insisted. D'Artagnan opened his mouth to protest but, before he had the chance, Aramis continued to speak. D'Artagnan looked over to Athos for help but Athos just shrugged.

“Mademoiselle Sophia. Her father is a very rich man and yet he’s very liberal. Sophia is the oldest daughter so, of corse, there are three others if she doesn’t take your fancy. I mean you could just court all four and see which one you like the best. Actually I think the second oldest might be suit you better. I can’t remember her name but I hear she’s quite the horse rider.”

“Aramis,” d'Artagnan sighed when Aramis finally paused long enough that he was able to speak again. “I appreciate you trying but I’m not interested.”

“You can’t wallow in heartbreak forever. You’ll turn into Athos.”

The words made Porthos choke on his breakfast. He thumped himself on the chest to get the air back into his lungs. Porthos coughing made Aramis realise that his choice in words perhaps hadn’t been very well thought through.

“No offense,” he quickly added, looking at Athos.

Athos just gave Aramis a nod of his head. “None taken,” he responded and sounded like he meant it.

“No,” d'Artagnan said sternly. “I mean I’m not interested in these women you’re describing.”

Aramis looked a little bit put-out, “Well I know many more.”

“Please, Aramis, just stop,” d'Artagnan pushed his empty bowl forward and got up from the bench. He didn’t look at any of them as he walked away. Aramis got up as well.

“Aramis,” Athos growled a warning but it fell on deaf ears because Aramis immediately went off after d'Artagnan. Athos and Porthos looked at each other briefly and this time it was the turn of Porthos to shrug before they both continued their breakfast.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Aramis said as he followed d'Artagnan to where-ever d'Artagnan was going. He eventually had to run a little to catch up in order to grab the shoulder of the younger man to stop him. “I should have asked what your type is before trying to help. First rule of matchmaking.” He smiled at d'Artagnan who, despite himself, could never stay mad at Aramis for long. However, before they had time to say anything more, the clanging of the bell sounded for their weekly inspection.

As Captain Treville slowly walked up and down the lines, making sure that swords were clean, uniforms looked presentable and pistols were well maintained, Aramis whispered to d'Artagnan.

“Maybe you’d prefer a married lady?” he asked in a hushed whisper. He hadn’t thought about that before but of corse Constance had been married. Perhaps d'Artagnan’s interests were similar to his own.

“I don’t want a married woman,” d'Artagnan said through gritted teeth.

“Hush,” Athos warned the pair of them as Treville got closer. Nevertheless Aramis was undeterred.

“A rich widow? I know plenty of those. I could take you to church on Sunday.” D'Artagnan let out an annoyed groan but Aramis seemed oblivious to it. “I think the widows would like you. You’re like a puppy. Actually I know a woman who collects puppies.”

It was only the angry face of Treville suddenly appearing inches from his own which finally shut Aramis up.

“Is this an important conversation?” Treville asked, not looking amused.  

“Very,” Aramis answered, not able to contain his smile. Some of the musketeers behind him chuckled.

Treville paused at the smiling face for a while before making a loud announcement. “Let us all thank Aramis for volunteering to clean out the stables for the rest of the week.” Aramis finally stopped smiling.

D'Artagnan went over to visit the stables later in the afternoon hoping to find some satisfaction in watching Aramis clean out horse shit and perhaps for another reason. Aramis was there in his trousers and shirt, obediently forking the hay. Unfortunately, as soon as d'Artagnan perched himself up on the wooden fence, the incessant man continued.

“I do know a widow called Madame Emilie. She’d look after you. She has a beautiful house just close to the fish market. You get used to the smell after a while......”

D'Artagnan sighed as he sat on the fence, peeling off some wood which was hanging loose. He wondered if he could stab Aramis with it. He also wondered if Aramis knew every single female in Paris. He suspected that he might.

“Aramis!” he snapped, before the man could continue with another ten names. “I don’t want another woman.”

Aramis threw some more horse muck onto his pile. “So you’d rather be lonely and miserable?”

“I’m not lonely or....” he sighed, there probably wasn’t even any point in arguing with the man.

“I know many nice ladies, d'Artagnan. There will be one who is right for you.”

“I don’t want a nice lady!” d'Artagnan suddenly yelled. “I want a nice man!” He paused. Had he just said that out loud? He hadn’t meant too. Aramis froze, horse muck balancing on his fork. D'Artagnan wondered if he should laugh and make a joke of it but he found his mouth no longer working or his brain for that matter. He just stared at Aramis who was staring back at him. Eventually the older musketeer just shrugged.

“Well that makes it slightly more challenging but not impossible,” he said and d'Artagnan let out the breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding, grateful to Aramis for being so open-minded despite his strong beliefs. “Do you have a particular man in mind?”

“No, I....well.....,” d'Artagnan stumbled over his words. He had already admitted something very shocking already, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue telling Aramis all of his secrets and yet it was at that very moment the new stable master appeared and walked towards them. Anton was a tall man with strong broad shoulders, short curly hair, brown eyes and a kind face.

“Keep going, Aramis,” he teased with a smile. “You’ve got a lot more to do yet. Afternoon, d'Artagnan.” He bowed his head with respect at d'Artagnan and then continued walking. D'Artagnan suddenly came over a little shy and he stuttered a greeting back which didn’t go unnoticed by Aramis whose face suddenly lit up with a grin.

That evening they all walked to the tavern together. Or at least three of them did. Athos never went to the tavern with them, he just happened to always be there at the same time. Aramis suddenly suggesting that they invite Anton along.

“Who?” Porthos asked.

“Anton, the stable master.”

Porthos shrugged. He knew of the stable boys and stable master but he wasn’t very good with names. “Why would we invite him? We don’t even invite other musketeers.”

“I just thought it would be a nice gesture.”

D'Artagnan really hoped that his face wasn’t displaying the level of embarrassment that Aramis was making him feel. He knew that the others didn’t know what he had admitted to Aramis but he suspected that it wouldn’t take them long before Aramis and his ridiculous behaviour was going to start making them question. Soon Aramis decided that he didn’t need their permission anyway and went off to find Anton.

“Has his behaviour been getting increasingly odd recently, or is it me?” Porthos asked no-one in particular and Athos decided not to answer. He knew full-well that Aramis was playing matchmaker and doing whatever else he was up to in order to distract himself from his own heartbreak and, partly, Athos was relieved that his distractions were so far quite innocent although somewhat annoying.

Aramis did eventually join them at the tavern with a very confused looking Anton. Pulling up an extra chair, Aramis invited Anton to sit with them. Anton, seemingly worried about offending any of the musketeers, did so. D'Artagnan just felt mortified about the whole thing. Although, once a few drinks were drunk and the conversation began to flow, d'Artagnan really started to enjoy himself. As it turned out Anton and d'Artagnan had a lot in common, something which Aramis pointed out on many occasions. They were both raised on a farm, both orphans, both preferred pork to beef, oh the similarities were endless. Anton answered the constant questions without complaining. D'Artagnan started to relax in the company of Anton until Aramis started digging a little deeper.

“So you’re not married but is there a lady in your life?”

“No,” Anton said. “There hasn’t been for a while.”

“Ah,” Aramis suddenly looked even more interested. “You prefer the horses and stable-boys?”

D'Artagnan accidentally spat out some of his drink, spraying it on Porthos who looked less than amused. Yet the evening was pleasant for everyone and, by the end of the night, d'Artagnan felt like he knew a lot more about Anton. Aramis suggested they should all get together to go riding one day which Anton agreed sounded like fun.

“Splendid,” Aramis said, pleased at how the evening had gone. Porthos made excuses and went off to bed first followed by Anton and d'Artagnan walking out together and still talking. Aramis smiled as he watched them go and put on his hat. He was about to leave when Athos grabbed his arm and dragged him back into his seat. Aramis had almost forgotten that Athos was there.

“Aramis....” Athos began and then he looked like he was searching for what to say. “You know you can always talk to me about anything, don’t you?”

Aramis nodded, feeling a little worried about where this conversation might be going.

“Yes.....no, well I usually talk to Porthos.”

Athos nodded a little, “I know but my offer is always there. This must be a confusing time for you. Confusing....emotions must be happening for you right now. If you’re ever.....confused....you can always talk to me.”

“Umm thank you?” Aramis said, feeling confused already but too tired to even attempt to figure out what Athos was getting at. “Goodnight, Athos.”

**Author's Note:**

> [I don't have a beta (which i assume means proof reader) so forgive me for any grammar mistakes. If anyone wants to offer this dyslexic person their beta services then do let me know!]


End file.
